Mon Cœur S'ouvre À Ta Voix
by shattered petal
Summary: And the sheer torture of belonging. Belonging to a fool, a warrior. A man of Light. -Link/Midna


**author's note**: Ohmeeeguuudd, this took me AGES and I'm so exhausted now. This has got to be one of the hardest oneshots I've wrote, and I hope it's not terrible. The ending isn't my best but I've never been great with them. Have half a mind to not publish this, but shall do anyway. Sorry if it's not... well, great.

* * *

**Title**: Mon Cœur S'ouvre À Ta Voix  
**Genres**: Romance/Angst  
**Rating**: T  
**Couple**: Link/Midna

* * *

Her heart was blackened, leaking an intense agony of pride and fury, incapable of feeling anything other than hatred. The girl was a demon, a cold soul, and yet she was all that mattered. The girl was no longer _just_ a vessel of spite–– she was everything.

Fur torn through his flesh, trapped behind bars, with the sense of loss and defeat, Link perceived her as a pest. While useful, she was irritating, demeaning and selfish. She followed her race's corrupted ways, considered him useless and a waste, a _Light Dweller_.

However when her very life fell into his bloodied hands, when she literally begged him to remain by her side, when she apologised, promised to follow him, Link could finally see. While she expressed hatred, envy and every other sin, her heart throbbed. She wished she could be like him.

And when everything grew clearer, everything about her became apparent, Link could no longer _think_. She possessed him, played with his mind and stabbed at his heart repetitively until he collapsed, and bled. Yet she had no idea.

_Wide red eyes, cursed flesh, _

_... blood._

It frightens him that there was once a time she ceased to exist.

–– Because she is now all.

* * *

The air is brisk, and he shivers under his tunic.

Bats flap above Link's head, but he is distracted. Apparently his companion has noticed because she watches him with slight concern. Rarely is the boy distracted. He is always on target, always constant, always thinking logically. Tonight, though, his bright blue eyes are ghostly.

When they stop she considers asking him what the issue is, but he strays away from her company, throwing pebbles into the river. From afar, she watches, holding herself, _hating_ herself. The man is torn, ripped in some many ways and he still stands.

Most of the bruises and cuts she has conjured upon him.

Guilt floods her mind; she dares not even glance at herself–– _she only exists because of him_.

A man who had every right to let her die in shame.

An hour passes. By now shadows hang below his eyes and he gives in; sleep will not come easy. Grabbing his bag he approaches the imp, and stops before her.

'How are you?'

It's a simple question, but her heart breaks.

After everything, after every insult, he still _cares_ for her.

She wishes he would be angry, hate her, loathe her, _scream_ at her, because she would do the exact same thing.

It upsets her a Light Dweller is better, far more supreme, and _beautiful_.

'Fine,' is her short response.

A hand squeezes his heart and he lightly touches her shoulder. Midna shudders, and her body never stops trembling. She wants him to touch her again, but Link is too decent, too wonderful. He leaves her.

Yet pain slashes across his broken face.

'Did he hurt you...?'

Swallowing, Midna looks away, anger flooding her veins.

'No, of course he didn't.'

Link shivers.

'I was useless.'

Never did she want to hear such a confession. Frozen, Midna continues to listen, but hopes he doesn't taunt himself. _It's too much. It's too much._

Then his fingertips trail across her cheek.

'He threw you around like a toy––' Link inhales sharply. When she looks at him she doesn't recognise the gentle man. He is furious. '––That bastard almost killed you.'

Link can't breathe. The ability is lost when he imagines her gone. Vanished from his life.

She is mortal, so fragile and vulnerable. Even he, a man considered a hero, cannot always be there to save her. One day she'll slip between his fingers––

'I suppose I'm no better.'

The honesty in her tone wrecks him terribly. Link studies her eyes: there is no sarcasm.

There is shame, regret and punishment.

His throat is sore when he grabs her arms and shakes her. It's violent, but so full of affection Midna stops breathing. He is sneering, trembling, _scared_.

'Don't _ever_ say that. Don't _ever_ say that,' _he's desperate to shout_, 'Have you forgotten if you never came to me, I wouldn't be alive? That the whole of Hyrule and even you would be lost?' Yet it is so clear in her eyes: she wishes Zelda didn't sacrifice herself. It's a horrible revelation. 'We shan't discuss this again, Midna.'

Turning away, he straps the pack on, before pulling his glove. _Worthless, worthless, worthless_. He can't ever allow the woman to punish herself. Never.

Fury continues to bubble and he attempts to calm with no result.

A small hand presses against his back.

'I'm sorry.'

He hears her, just.

The apology scars him forever.

She comes closer, only to press herself against him, to drink his warmth and love. To have something she'll never possess.

'I'm so sorry...'

* * *

Anyone would gather she is bitter by the revelation. The Mirror is gone, or most of it is. Any hope of returning to her Realm is lost entirely without his guidance. It strikes him she _needs_ him. Not as a tool or a weapon, but as _him_. But asking is worthless. Link has already decided.

Even though the incident with Zelda happened several weeks ago, Midna wishes he'd refuse, walk away and live.

In those tiny hands of hers, she has grasped him, made the boy her own toy soldier.

_No_. He deserves better; he deserves the world.

_But the world will never be enough_.

She wants to ask why he does it, why he helps her, stands with her, like a Knight.

Never do the words escape her lips, and she realises why she doesn't query when Link rushes to claim the first Shard.

She is frightened. Frightened of his answer. Frightened by the fact it will destroy her.

* * *

The War ceases.

The Usurper Zant became nothing, dying the most horrible of deaths, but one which was just. Link wouldn't have played the game any other way.

'_We have to save Princess Zelda_.'

Yes, their duty, their entire reason to be here. Unlike Princess Midna, though, Link can't focus. His legs wobble and he clenches his fists, the temptation to yell "stop" became too much. _No, don't go, not yet, stay for a second_.

It isn't love. It can never be love.

Link never believed any other emotion could be stronger.

The man is dead without her. He cannot breathe without her. He's possessed. Completely and utterly possessed and there is no escape.

_He's trapped_.

* * *

There are times he wishes she would leave him, be gone forever and never return. Yet there are other times where he desires her, and would do anything to have the girl as close to him as possible.

Blood drips from his wounds and he groans, aware she's panicking, demanding he stand to his feet and not _fool her_.

_I can't lose you_.  
_It's too late_.

Of course he is able to move, but barely. Limbs, arms and head throbbing in pain, Link stumbles and focusses his gaze, before closing his eyes. Warm hands press against his bloodied cheeks and she shakes him.

It amazes him how someone so little could be so strong.

'I–– I'm fine,' he croaks. The pain was nothing to what she played upon him. 'Don't worry.'

She worries. She worries constantly, for _his sake _and his sake alone. Not for Hyrule, Zelda, his family or her. But for him. _She can't let him die_.

_She can never let him fall, even if it kills her_.

'We keep going.'

It's not an order. She lets the statement hang.

Link nods.

'We keep going.'

* * *

He's seen monsters, suffered nightmares and murdered.

_She is the only specimen who keeps him sane_.

Link isn't prepared. She isn't ready.

They happen at home, a building all would consider where safety and comfort belongs. However it fails to bring such qualities. Link is drowning, and cannot control himself, and she surrenders to his actions, _useless_ against him.

Both collide together against the wood, and he holds her, furious and desperate, kissing her with such force she is incapable of responding. He kisses her jawline, breath tickling her neck and she can do nothing but submit to him.

Midna is shaking. She is cold. Link's warm arms are hopeless. For once his firm body is weak and cold.

There is no gentility in his kisses or hands. He is a changed man, pushing her so close to his chest she cannot use her lungs.

Annoyance ruptures his thoughts and he only pulls away to breathe.

However Link never expresses mercy. His lips catch hers again, and his passion is fiery and possessive, claiming her as his very own.

'What are we doing?'

The question lingers. Link doesn't have an answer.

'I don't know.'

_They lost track of their actions a long time ago_.

This shouldn't be so.

Midna whimpers when he makes her sore, and she clutches his collar, finally capable to take charge, but only slightly. _Link has always been the one in control. She has always been in his mercy_. Small hands cannot do much with thick fabric, yet the man has deciphered the problem in a flash. Tunic off, his white flesh is hot against her own.

There are so many reasons why this is wrong.

And so little why this is right.

Link realises his flaws, his sin, and begins to pull away. However Midna registers his movements, and clings to him, frightened and desperate, refusing to let him move.

'Don't... please don't think...'

His mind rattles with her words, and she has made everything impossible.

_She __**is**__ his sin_.

They meet in a gentle, soft kiss, nursing the bruises he created over her lips. He thinks. He constantly thinks, fears, desires, wishes, hopes.

She is his, completely.

_She_ _always has been_.

* * *

An ironic shard slices the two.

Link is protective of a woman who should only feed off negative emotions. She has fallen in love with a man who shines bright, and survives in a world which is able to poison her internally.

He knows she will not stop to stand by him at any costs, even if his life threatened her own. Although a Princess, a ruler, she finds herself ruled by one man. He can do anything. He possesses a power he is unaware of.

Doing absolutely _anything _for this torn and beaten angel seems worthless, unsatisfying, pathetic.

_He can't know. He can never be knowledgable of the fact she loves him._ A Twili doesn't _love_. It is not in their nature, and completely forbidden for someone who stands at the top.

When the Mirror shatters everything halts.

For it is not out of wisdom or selflessness the tears drops.

But a fear so strong, that by the end she still cares only about herself.

And the sheer torture of _belonging_.  
Belonging to a fool, a warrior.

A man of Light.


End file.
